It is interesting to note that this "Passion According to St. Matthew"
is in two parts, and that, as was the case with the oratorios of San
Filippo Neri, the sermon came between. The text was prepared by
Christian Friedrichs Henrici, writing under the pseudonym of Picander,
and is partly dramatic, partly epic in form, with an Evangelist to
relate the various events in the story, but with the Lord, St. Peter
and others using their own words according to the sacred text. A
double chorus is employed, sometimes representing the Disciples,
sometimes the infuriated populace; but always treated in dramatic
fashion.
At the time the "Passion" was written, the arias and certain of the
choruses which contained meditations on the events narrated were
called "Soliloquiae"; and in singing the beautiful chorales, the
congregation was expected to join. The recitatives assigned to the
Saviour are accompanied by string orchestra only, and are, as Rockstro
says, full of gentle dignity, while the choruses are marked by an
amount of dramatic power which is remarkable when one considers that
Bach never paid any attention to the most dramatic of all musical
forms, the opera. The "Passion According to St. Matthew," by Johann
Sebastian Bach, was his greatest work and one of the greatest works of
all times. It was produced for the first time at the afternoon service
in the Church of St. Thomas, Leipzig, where Bach was Cantor, on Good
Friday, 1729, and it was one hundred years before it was heard again,
when it was revived by Mendelssohn, in Berlin, on March 12th,
1829--an epoch-making performance.
Strictly speaking, Passion Music is not an oratorio, but a church
service, and Bach actually designed his to serve as a counter-attraction
to the Mass as performed in the Roman Church. What we understand under
oratorio derived its vitality from George Frederick Haendel, who was
born at Halle in Lower Saxony, 1685, but whose most important work was
accomplished in London, where he died in 1759 and was buried in
Westminster Abbey. Before Haendel wrote his two greatest oratorios, "Israel
in Egypt" and "The Messiah," he had, through the composition of
numerous operas, mastered the principles of dramatic writing, and in
his oratorios he aims, whenever the text makes it permissible, at
dramatic expression. It is only necessary to recall the "Plague Choruses"
in "Israel in Egypt," especially the "Hail-Stone Chorus" and the
chorus of rejoicing ("The horse and his rider hath He thrown into the
sea"); or by way of contrast, the tenderly expressive melody of "As for
His people, He led them forth like sheep," to realize what an adept Haendel
was in dramatic expression.
Rockstro on Haendel.
Haendel may in fact be called the founder of variety and freedom in
writing for chorus. While I must confess that I do not share
Rockstro's intense enthusiasm for Haendel and for "The Messiah,"
nevertheless he expresses so well the general feeling in England and
the feeling on the part of those in this country who crowd the annual
Christmas performances of "The Messiah," toward that work, that the
best means of conveying an idea of what oratorio signifies to those
who like it, is to quote him. Referring to Haendel's free and varied
treatment of chorus writing, he says:
"He bids us 'Behold the Lamb of God' and we feel that he has helped us
to do so. He tells us that 'With His stripes we are healed,' and we
are sensible not of the healing only, but of the cruel price at which
it was purchased. And we yield him equal obedience when he calls upon
us to join in his hymns of praise. Who hearing the noble subject of 'I
will sing unto the Lord,' led off by the tenors and altos, does not
long to reinforce their voices with his own? Who does not feel a
choking in his throat before the first bar of the 'Hallelujah Chorus'
is completed, though he may be listening to it for the hundredth time?
Hard indeed must his heart be who can refuse to hear when Haendel
preaches through the voice of his chorus." The "Messiah" also contains
two of Haendel's most famous solos, "He shall feed His flock" and "I
know that my Redeemer liveth."
This work was performed for the first time on April 13, 1742, at the
Music Hall, Dublin, when Haendel was on a visit to the Duke of
Devonshire, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. The rehearsals, at which
many people were present by invitation, had aroused so much
enthusiasm, that those who were interested in the charitable object
for which it was given, requested "as a favor that the ladies who
honor this performance with their presence would be pleased to come
without hoops, as it would greatly increase the charity by making
room for more company." Gentlemen also were requested to come without
swords, for the same reason. It is said that at the first London
performance, when the "Hallelujah Chorus" rang out, the King rose in
his place and, followed by the entire audience, stood during the
singing of the chorus, and that thus the custom, which still is
observed, originated.
Following Haendel, Haydn in 1798, when nearly seventy years old, wrote
"The Creation," founded on passages from Milton's "Paradise Lost," and
after it "The Seasons," for which Thomson's familiar poem supplied the
text. In both of these there is much purely descriptive music,
especially in the earlier oratorio, when the creation of various
animals is related. In "The Creation," too, after the passages for
muted strings, is the famous outburst of orchestra and chorus, "And
there was light." Haydn was a far greater master of orchestration than
Haendel. He also was one of the early composers of the homophonic
school, and there is a freer, more spontaneous flow of melody in his
oratorios. But they undoubtedly lack the grandeur of Haendel's.
Mendelssohn's Oratorios.
Between Haydn and Mendelssohn, in the development of oratorio, nothing
need be mentioned, excepting Beethoven's "Mount of Olives" and Spohr's
"The Last Judgment" (Die Letzten Dinge). Mendelssohn, in his "St.
Paul," followed the example of the old passionists, and introduced
chorales, but in his greater oratorio, "Elijah," which is purely an
Hebraic subject, he discarded these. The dramatic quality of "Elijah"
is so apparent that it has been said more than once to be capable of
stage representation with scenery, costumes and action. This is
especially true of the prophet himself, whose personality is so
definitely developed that he stands before us almost like a character
behind the footlights. This dramatic value is felt at the very
beginning, when, after four solemn chords on the brass, the work,
instead of opening with an overture, is ushered in by _Elijah's_
prophecy of the drought. Then comes the overture, which is descriptive
of the effects of the prophecy.
Next to "The Messiah," "Elijah" probably is the most popular of
oratorios, and I think this is due to its dramatic value, and to the
fact that its descriptive music, instead of being somewhat naive, not
to say childish, as is the case with some passages in Haydn's
"Creation," is extremely effective. It is necessary only to remind the
reader of the descent of the fire and the destruction of the prophets
of Baal; of the description of the gradual approach of the rain-storm,
as _Elijah_, standing on Mount Carmel and watching for the coming of
the rain, is informed of the little cloud, "out of the sea, like a
man's hand"--a little cloud which we seem to see in the music, and
which grows in size and blackness until it bursts like a deluge over
the scene. Then there are the famous bass solo, "It is enough"; the
unaccompanied "Trio of Angels"; the _Angel's_ song, "Oh, rest in the
Lord"; and the tenderly expressive chorus, "He, watching over Israel."
I once heard a performance of "Elijah" during which the _Angel_
carried on such a lively flirtation with the _Prophet_ that she almost
missed the cue for her most important solo; in fact would have missed
it, had not the conductor sharply called her attention to the fact
that it was time for her to begin.
I think that oratorio reached its successive climaxes with "The
Messiah" and "Elijah." Gounod's "Redemption" and "Mors et Vita," in
spite of passages of undeniable beauty, seem to me, as a whole, rather
spineless. Edward Elgar's "Dream of Gerontius" and "The Apostles" have
created much excitement in England and considerable interest here, but
while it is too soon to hazard a definite opinion of this composer, he
appears to be lacking in individuality--to derive from Wagner whatever
is interesting in his scores, while what is original with him is
unimportant.
There are certain sacred, semi-sacred and even secular works that are
apt to figure on the programs of oratorio and allied societies. Mr.
Frank Damrosch's Society of Musical Art sings very beautifully some of
the unaccompanied choruses of the early Italian polyphonic school,
such as Palestrina's "Papae Marcelli Mass," "Stabat Mater" and
"Requiem"; the "Miserere" of Allegri (sought to be retained
exclusively by the choir of the Sistine Chapel, but which Mozart wrote
out from memory after hearing it twice); and the "Stabat Mater" of
Pergolesi. There are also the Bach cantatas, Mozart's "Requiem," with
its tragic associations; Beethoven's "Mass in D;" Schumann's "Paradise
and the Peri" and his music to Byron's "Manfred" (with recitation);
Liszt's "Graner Mass," "Legend of St. Elizabeth" and "Christus";
Rubinstein's "Tower of Babel" and "Paradise Lost"; Brahms's "German
Requiem," a noble but difficult work; Dvorak's "Stabat Mater";
Rossini's "Moses in Egypt" and "Stabat Mater"; Berlioz's "Requiem" and
"Damnation de Faust," the American production of which latter was one
of the late Dr. Leopold Damrosch's finest achievements; and Verdi's
"Manzoni Requiem."